Those of you who have been following my blog for some time (or know me in real life) know that I’ve been in a constant state of physical and emotional healing since being attacked by a dog this summer.

If I’ve been remiss in posting here, it’s because I’ve been on Vicodin for the last week and a half and unable to form coherent sentences. Why? Because I FINALLY got my dental implant. Which means I am thisclose to no longer being a toothless hillbilly.

(Two or so months from now, anyway.)

Last Monday, I went to the oral surgeon to have an inch-long metal rod drilled into my jaw. Can I tell you what a strange sensation that is? The vibrations made me feel like my head was going to spin off my body, and I was so petrified the entire time – I just kept waiting for them to drill too far, past the localized anesthesia, and to leave me writhing in pain in the adjustable chair.

Luckily, my oral surgeon happens to be fabulous, and that wasn’t an issue. The procedure took just under an hour, and I spent the rest of the evening napping happily at home with lots of Vicodin and ice cream.

Lottttts of Vicodin.

I’m still experiencing some minor soreness (which is to be expected, considering that I had a METAL ROD DRILLED INTO MY SKULL), but things are healing up nicely. And guess what? Two months from now, I get to top that metal rod off with a crown, and voila! I once again have a full set of teeth.

It’s the little things in life. Really.